


Escalation

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Crash Landing, Drama, HOW EVER ARE THEY GOING TO COMMUNICATE NOW??!, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, On the Run, Pregnant Tony Stark, THE FLIP PHONE IS GONE!!!, hopelessness, life is a bitch, negativity, self hatred, separated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Tony discovers why Steve hasn't been answering his phone calls. Steve wishes that were still an option.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 28
Kudos: 163





	Escalation

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this one in August but there were so many emotionally draining events that I didn't really wanna write angst. But here we are! We'll see what my writing mood looks like after this point lol. Could be the direct sequel to this, could be another spot in the timeline. Who knows? :)
> 
> Sidenote: fuck my internet for giving out while I was trying to post this so I had to put in all the fucking tags and everything again!!

Tony’s fingers were tight around the flip phone, his heart pounding in his chest.

It’d been an hour or so since his first phone call, and the preceding texts. It’d been an hour and a half since he’d first texted Steve, and gotten no response.

He tried not to worry. After all, sometimes fights ran a little longer than anticipated, and things got a little more complicated. Sometimes other things got in the way after a fight, and something like a phone call had to be left for later.

But part of Tony couldn’t help but worry. Some deep part of him seemed to be terrified right now, a tiny itch scratching and clawing at his heart, only growing bigger as time passed, and Tony tried and failed to quell it.

Steve was fine, he told himself. They were all fine. Why wouldn’t they be fine? They’d lasted this long out there, and from the general state of the world, the Big Thing, the thing Tony had been anticipating for years to come, wasn’t at their doorstep yet, so there was no reason things shouldn’t be fine. They definitely were fine.

But if they weren’t? If the team was in danger? What if something disastrous had happened? What if they’d been caught, or worse, _killed_? What would Tony do? How would he feel, if Steve were gone for good? He was still so angry, a lot of the time, but he couldn’t deny he still loved the man, still loved his _mate_ , and maybe he could admit that talking to each other again was doing more good than harm. If all off that progress was suddenly thrown out the window, if there could never be any more, if he really, truly could never see or hear from Steve again…

Tony tried not to even entertain that idea. This was Steve he was talking about. The man had survived being frozen in ice for decades. He could survive whatever situation he was in right now, Tony was sure of it.

He _wasn’t_ sure when he would hear from Steve again though, and it was making him more than a little anxious, making his stomach turn. It didn’t help that he was alone at the moment. Rhodey had been away since this morning, taking a personal day, because Tony insisted he deserved it, and Vision was out on another tryst with Wanda and wouldn’t return for another three or so days. Tony insisted he’d be okay by himself for a little bit. He’d felt somewhat decent the last two days, a tiny bit less achy, less irritated. He was hoping that meant things were changing for the better, but now he doubted. Now, fear was seeping into his veins, and he had to find a way to stifle it.

Of course he was going to try and call Steve again.

He hit the call button with bated breath. The line rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. Steve didn’t pick up. The answering machine called for a message to be recorded and Tony took a deep breath, shut his eyes. He didn’t leave a message after the first call, figured giving Steve a little more time was more prudent, but he was going to leave one this time.

Tony tucked himself further into the couch, his elbow on the arm rest, hand over his eyes. “Steve? Hey, I know I might just be overreacting, or maybe you’ve taken a page out of my book and are giving _me_ the silent treatment now, but I-I’m…I’m getting a little nervous here…”

He tried to keep his voice calm, even, but he could hear the concern in it, the low hiss of panic. He continued. “ _Please_ call me back. You’re probably totally fine, just really busy after the fight, but if I don’t hear from you soon I think I’m gonna lose it. Please…please be okay. I’ll give it another hour. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll start looking.”

 _‘God, please let me hear from him by then…’_ he thought.

“You know I don’t like screwing around with the tracker, just in case they have managed to get past my firewalls, but if I have to, I will. You don’t get to disappear on me now, after everything. You call me, Steve Rogers, or you’re gonna have another thing coming,” Tony joked. It wasn’t very funny.

He bit his lip, looked down at his baby bump. Tony let out a little breath. “Just…get back to me, sweetheart. We need you.”

Steve didn’t get back to him.

He waited, and waited, and waited. He tried to distract himself, ate dinner, re-folded the new clothes in his baby’s closet, and tried desperately not to open the flip phone every few minutes. An hour passed, and there was no word from Steve.

Luckily, there was word from Rhodey, and even better, _sight_ of him, because he decided to come home early after a nice dinner with his family. Naturally, Tony sprung the news on him, his hands shaking a little though he tried to hide it, and Rhodey took him by the hand, led him to the couch.

“Have you checked out the tracker yet?” he asked.

Tony shook his head. “Not yet. I—I’ve been kind of scared to,” he admitted. The longer he stayed away from the hard data, the more he could convince himself that everything was fine. If he saw the truth though, and it was something terrible, there’d be no taking that knowledge back.

“And it’s been several hours longer than anticipated?”

“Yeah. See, statistically, their missions last two hours, two hours and forty-five minutes tops. I added two hours buffer time after that before even checking in, but I wasn’t getting anything back, and I kept texting and then I called, and then I called _again_ and still nothing.” Tony’s face was grim, and his words a little rushed.

Rhodey didn’t have to wonder if this whole thing was stressing him out or not. He swallowed hard. “You can either keep waiting or look for yourself, Tones. It’s up to you.”

The brunet didn’t feel like he had a choice, really. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew. It was really frustrating, actually, because he was relying on Steve all over again, way more readily than he had anticipated. He was concerned, in a way he hadn’t been for months, and that concern only grew. Was Steve ignoring him? Was he simply busy? Or was he in trouble?

If he was in trouble, how could Tony help without jeopardizing everything they’ve worked for, everything they’ve kept hidden? And it was only a few short weeks until the baby would come. How could Tony handle another unpredictable situation at this time? He wasn’t sure. He needed to know though. He needed to.

“FRIDAY?” The AI didn’t need much more direction than that, having dutifully processed the conversation.

The fact that she didn’t speak wasn’t a positive indicator.

Tony’s eyes scanned the data with lightning speed. The Quinjet had indeed arrived at the target location, and remained there for an appropriate amount of time. It had taken off again afterwards, headed southward, with more haste than usual, but then…

Then the marked path became erratic, looping and sweeping back and forth, and then it abruptly ended in a forest near the coast of Tunisia. The timestamp indicated the Quinjet landed there a few hours ago, about the time Tony made his first phone call, and hadn’t moved since. According to the jet’s diagnostic report, it was badly damaged, with a cracked fuel line, shot electrical system, and extensive damage to the cabin. At this point, all of its systems were down, excluding the tracker.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened: It had crashed.

Rhodey came to that conclusion at the same time Tony did, and thank god he did, because the hand he put on Tony’s shoulder made him remember to breathe.

“Tony…”

Tony was having a hard time formulating a response. His mind was racing a mile a minute, stacking scenarios and worst outcomes quicker than he could keep up with. There were about four seconds of silence before his voice worked again. He ended up letting out a cross between a laugh and a sob, and it was like flipping a light switch.

“This is a joke. This _has_ to be a fucking joke! They fucking crashed? Oh my god, I told them to recalibrate the retro-reflective panels, _told_ them to check the fuel lines! Idiots! _How_ many times have I said to be careful? This is exactly what I was scared about! T-this is—oh god, what if they’re… _Steve_ … Jesus _Christ_ what the fuck am I supposed to do? I can’t—I can’t—”

Rhodey couldn’t get a word in edgewise until Tony’s outburst dissolved into stuttering breaths, and then into frustrated sobs. He put his arms around his friend immediately, held him tight. “Shh, it’s okay, we don’t know the whole story—Come on, Tones, just relax, we’ll figure it out.”

“Relax? How can I relax? They could be dead, or captured! Shit, if they’re caught, if Ross gets them to talk, we’re _all_ fucked!”

“You know they’d never talk. They’re dumb, but not dumb enough to get caught, or put us in jeopardy like that,” Rhodey insisted.

He tried not to let on how worried he actually was. The thing was, the erratic path the jet took before its final spot wasn’t _that_ erratic. Rhodey recognized the maneuvers, of course, after flying so many missions himself. The team was definitely pursued, and the pilot, most likely Sam, tried to get the enemy off their tail. They probably got hit, and went down. What happened next, only time would tell.

“FRIDAY, is there any footage to play back? Audio, if not visual?” Rhodey asked, rubbing circles into Tony’s back. The brunet had his face hidden in his hands, trying to settle down.

_Sorry, but the surveillance protocol was manually shut down approximately a month ago, as ordered by Captain Rogers. The Captain and Black Widow worried any footage recorded could be used against them if found by the authorities._

“Well at least they tried to cover their tracks,” Rhodey said. “That’s good. It means they won’t have anything.”

“If there’s even a _chance_ the jet can be repaired, the UN will take it apart and look for anything and everything. And furthermore, the goddamn _flip phone_ exists!” Tony growled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “If Steve still had it, he would’ve responded by now. Either it’s out there somewhere in the wilderness, or that shit stain Ross has it and is building a beautifully detailed case against me as we speak!”

“If Ross had something against you, he’d be here already. You know he’s been dying to fuck things up ever since you threatened him,” Rhodey replied.

Well, that much was true, but it didn’t make Tony feel any better. He took a deep breath, tried to calm down, to think rationally. He couldn’t stop the sinking feeling from settling in his chest though, or the wave of nausea that was threatening to surge up. He really didn’t need this. He was due to go into labor in two weeks, and had just started to properly speak to Steve again. He relied on that contact now, for health reasons, and also, he…he was starting to _enjoy_ it a little again. He _wanted_ to improve, wanted to be able to trust Steve, to get closer to him, like they were before all of this.

Now, he wasn’t sure that opportunity was available anymore. He wasn’t sure what was happening at the moment at all.

Nurse Celene had warned him time and time again over the last few weeks that stress was the enemy, that just because some of the risk in his sickness had abated didn’t mean he was out of the clear, and what fell directly into his lap now? An incredible amount of stress, which he highly doubted would be mitigated within the next twenty-four hours, which did what exactly? That’s right, make him _more_ _stressed_.

Tony could feel his mouth water a little, a stirring in his stomach that was far too familiar. He really didn’t want to throw up right now.

“The next time I see Steve, I’m going to kill him,” Tony announced, balling his hands into fists. He leaned back against the couch, closed his eyes and prayed the vomit away.

“Yeah? Get in line. I get first swing,” the other Alpha said.

The brunet rubbed his temples. “I need to know where the damn phone is, if he has it or not. But it’s so damn old it doesn’t even have GPS.”

“Can’t you find a different way to track it?”

“If the thing is on, I can. I can modify mine, transmit a signal from my end and see where it pings, target the companion’s location. If it’s off or damaged though, no go.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s in working order,” Rhodey sighed. He paused, eyes scanning over the holographic data in front of them once more. “If it isn’t, we should consider calling Vision back in. Hell, we should call him back in in general. He and Wanda need to know what happened, if they don’t already. Ross will be wanting to hear from him. He’ll probably want him on the search squad.”

“He’ll probably ask for you too,” Tony replied.

“Luckily I’ve got a convenient excuse.” 

There was no way in hell Rhodey was leaving Tony’s side now. He could already smell the sharp edge in his friend’s scent, the stress, the uncertainty, even, dare he say it, the _fear_ , and he knew that things were about to change again. They were in the home stretch. They’d come so damn far. Tony and Steve had improved over the last few weeks, and as a result, the Bond Sickness drew back a bit, but now? With this sudden, unpredictable, potentially dangerous situation? Rhodey knew things could turn for the worst. He prayed they wouldn’t.

Tony was already looking pretty miserable. He’d been in such better spirits the last few days, but it seemed that was over. Rhodey couldn’t blame him. No one wanted to deal with this. No one knew exactly what _this_ was. Were the rogues in custody? Was Ross playing the long game, waiting for them to notice or slip up? Was Ross on the move even now, preparing to strike? Or did Steve and his team slip away from their hunters, and where were they now? When would they be heard from again? Rhodey didn’t have the answers, and he couldn’t give them to his friend, though he wished he could.

Tony knew nobody could give him the answers. If he wanted them, he would have to discover them himself. What he would do with those answers was another matter entirely. He’d worry about that bridge when he got to it. The Alpha took another deep breath. His baby responded with a lovely kick in the ribs. He was shaping up to be kind of a pain, just like his father.

 _‘We can do this,’_ Tony told himself, and his child. _‘I’m not giving up.’_

He could feel Rhodey’s eyes on him, sympathetic, concerned, as usual. Tony looked away. He didn’t want to see the pity there, didn’t want to feel it. If he did, his resolve would weaken. He could succumb to the dread settling deep in his bones. He wasn’t going to let his feelings get the better of him. Not this time.

“I’m going to find him,” Tony announced. “I _will_ find him.”

* * *

Steve didn’t panic usually. He wasn’t the panicking type, really. He’d always had the ability to stay some sense of coherent under pressure, to find a way through the tough situations. He’d learned to make quick decisions, to stay in control, and he was good at it, most of the time. He had to learn to handle the unexpected, to think on his feet, because that’s what a leader did. Normally, he did a decent job at it. Now wasn’t one of those times where he did a decent job.

Now, for one of the few times in his life, he was panicking.

It’d been an hour since they crashed, since they were shot out of the sky, and sailed directly into the ground. The initial impact was hard, and the gunfire they’d taken put everything out of commission. They only had about a minute to recover and evacuate the jet though, and almost didn’t make it to safety. The cracked fuel line and shot electrical system went up in flames pretty quick, quicker than anticipated.

They got lucky.

They’d taken shelter in the forest for now, got as far away from the jet as possible, and were trying to avoid detection, to recover themselves and to plan their next move. Nat had a nasty gash on her forehead, and one of Sam’s wings was badly singed. The carbon fiber was partially melted, and it wasn’t really in flying condition anymore. They were all covered in dirt and ash, with scratches and bruises to boot from the hard landing. Steve had a few burns on his forearm and hands to contend with too.

He didn’t care so much about the burns. He didn’t care so much about the sketchbook that had burned to ashes as the fire spread on the jet. He didn’t care about the small suitcase of clothes he’d gathered in his time on the run, or the extra weapons in the small cargo hold, or anything else on the jet either for that matter.

What he did care about, was the goddamn flip phone, the flip phone which he _no longer had_ because it’d been dropped, and crushed or burned alongside the wreckage of their only means of reliable transportation.

It fell out of his pocket while he carried Nat off of the jet to safety, and he tried to go back for it, but the heat had already been too much, the fire too big. The whole aircraft was in danger of exploding too. Nevertheless, Steve tried to reach for the phone where it’d bounced across the metal grated floor, but when his flesh started to sizzle, and flames licked up his arms, he knew there was no way to get back in, no way to reach the device before it was too late. There was an explosion about ten seconds later, which split the jet into two pieces, alongside Steve’s heart.

There was no way to find the object he’d cherished for months, to rescue the only tether he had left, the only lifeline, the only means of reaching Tony. He had just watched his hopes disappear before his eyes, in a fiery blast, all because he’d been clumsy, because he hadn’t properly secured the fucking phone. He’d been getting ready to call Tony before they were attacked, and wished he’d attempted calling just a few minutes sooner. Steve had hastily shoved the electronic in his pocket when the first rocket sailed past their wing, and they engaged the enemy jets, and now he was suffering the consequences.

So yes, it was safe to say that Steve Rogers was panicking right now, pacing back and forth in the small clearing they were hiding at for the moment, cursing himself and every god out there for his misfortune, for his fucking never-ending punishment, like he had been for at least fifteen minutes now.

“God _dammit_! Son of a bitch!” he roared, tossing a careless punch at a nearby tree.

Pain shot up his hand, all the way up to his elbow—he’d forgotten about the burns, which were already starting to heal, but not nearly quick enough. He grit his teeth at the pulsing pain, deep and unpleasant, even for him.

“ _Fuck_!”

This was the one time were Sam didn’t try to calm the blond down. He had half a mind to join the Alpha in his little tantrum. They’d lost everything—all of their money, the belongings they’d collected, as well as the laptop full of Hydra records.

Most importantly, they’d lost the Quinjet. Without Tony here, there was no way they’d be able to get it back in working order. Hell, even _with_ Tony here, the odds weren’t good. The crash was rough. He still had a headache and a sore neck from the impact. The firefight leading up to it wasn’t much better.

He wasn’t sure how the UN discovered them in the first place, and none of them were expecting an ambush, but on the borders of Italian airspace they took a hit, which disengaged the retro-reflective panels, and from there, they were chased across the ocean by three fighter jets.

Sam did his best piloting. He tried to keep them out of the line of fire as long as possible, bobbed and weaved and used all the maneuvers he’d learned over the years, but it hadn’t been enough. He barely had enough time to warn the others to brace for impact with how fast they dropped out of the sky. Honestly, they should consider themselves lucky they didn’t go down in the ocean; the forest they landed in offered enough cover and chaos to flee the crash site, to try and find safety.

Still, no one felt safe right now. It’d already been an hour, and they hadn’t been discovered, but Sam wasn’t sure their luck would last. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands; he didn’t even have a bandage for the gash on Natasha’s forehead. He did his best cleaning it off in the nearby river, and did the same for Steve’s burns.

The soldier in question let out another groan of frustration, and Sam and Nat flinched a little.

“Not that screaming at the trees isn’t a great plan, boys, but we’ve got to come up with something better,” Natasha said, rubbing her temple. Her voice was still a little gravelly from smoke inhalation.

“Don’t ask me to make a plan right now, I have _no idea_ where to go from here! God dammit, the _motherfucking phone_ …!” Steve replied, exasperated.

He took a long, deep breath, exhaled it sharply. He angrily brushed hair from his face, stared down at the ground.

A plan. How the hell was he supposed to think of a plan? Every semblance of a plan had just flown out the window. Every goddamn plan in his life seemed to fly away, slip right through his hands, _explosively_. Where was he supposed to go from here? Where could he lead them?

They were on their own, _truly_. Sure, he’d been lost in the wilderness before, or cut off from the team, but this was something entirely different. They were in a foreign country in the middle of the woods with the UN on their tail, and Tony was halfway across the world probably already worried sick, a few weeks from delivering their baby, and now Steve couldn’t reach him.

The growl that tore out of his throat was strong enough to hurt. His breathing was sharp and quick, almost made him lightheaded.

“Calm down, man. We’ll figure something out,” Sam replied, wiping the sweat and grime from his brow, though he was feeling just as frazzled. He needed to convince himself just as much as Steve that things would be okay. “We’ll…We’ll wait, and go back to the jet, see if anything can be salvaged.”

“That’s useless,” Nat replied, shaking her head. “They saw where we landed—they’ll have picked the area apart by now. Let’s hope everything melted. We really don’t want anything falling into the UN’s hands.”

She was right, and they both knew it. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

“So what then?” Sam prodded with an angry huff.

“You’ve got Tony’s private number memorized, right?” Natasha asked Steve.

He grimaced, but nodded. “I do. I do, but…if they got a hold of the flip phone, the line might not be secure anymore. Hell, they might be on the doorstep of the Compound now.”

“Well you have to call him,” Sam interjected. “He needs to know what happened and we need help. We should try to get to the nearest town, find a phone.”

“That’s what they’ll be expecting,” Nat replied. She frowned; this situation was dismal. “Surveillance will be dialed up to 11 in the nearby towns. We can’t stay anywhere near here, and we shouldn’t try to use a phone. They’ll be tracing satellite calls for sure.”

“Then what?” Sam replied, his expression pinched with worry. “What are our options then?”

“Wakanda,” Steve said, though he didn’t sound excited about it. He let out a sigh, knowing exactly how difficult what he was about to suggest would be. “If…if we can get to Wakanda, T’challa can get us a secure line. We can call Tony, figure something out. The last email we received said Bucky was in the next phase of recovery. He could vouch for us if we need him to.”

“Wakanda….That’s several countries away,” Natasha pointed out, crossing her arms.

Steve slumped against a tree, slid down to the ground. He inspected his aching hands. “I know. It’ll take a lot of work, a lot of stealing too. We’ll have to slip across borders. The Wakandan Border Tribe should recognize us. Hopefully they’ll be willing to listen.”

Sam wasn’t convinced that was the best way to go. “Steve, it’ll take at least a week to get there, assuming we won’t get caught. Are you sure you can afford to wait that long to call? _You’re_ already freaking out. Imagine what it’ll do to Tony when he hears about this.”

Steve swallowed hard. There was a lump forming in his throat, and his eyes stung. He knew exactly what Sam was saying. If Tony was stressed, worried about him, and they weren’t in contact, his sickness, both of theirs, could take a turn for the worst. This really couldn’t have been worse timing.

He took a second to collect himself, squeezed his eyes shut to keep any tears from shedding. _‘I’m so, so sorry,’_ he thought, prayed Tony could hear him somehow.

He felt like a massive failure. Things had been going so good. Things had been changing for the better, and now, Steve had ruined it all again. He had to try and find a way to fix it, no matter the cost, no matter the risk.

“Nat’s right,” he said, though it pained him to do so. He wished they could take the simple way, but it was an impossibility. “They’ll be watching the towns and tapping phone lines. This is the only option we have.”

The three of them let that sink in. None of them could think of a better option. They’d forfeited better options a long time ago, had to work with what they had, which at the moment, was practically nothing.

Natasha sighed. “We don’t even have a way to warn Wanda about all of this. They’ll be looking for her too.”

“As far as they know, we haven’t split up. Maybe she’ll be able to stay under the radar,” Sam assured her. No one felt quite assured though.

Natasha checked the integrity of her guns, counted her spare ammunition. She checked the cut on her forehead; it’d stopped bleeding a while ago now.

“Well, then I suggest we get going,” she started. “There’s no point in waiting around here. No one’s going to rescue us.”

She turned her eyes to their Alpha, who was staring down at his hands, his jaw clenched so tight it could probably snap metal. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking about, how he was struggling. He’d finally started to get back to his old self the last few weeks, started to improve both physically and mentally. It was clear if they failed this new mission, all of that progress would be reverted. Hell, it was probably already starting to revert, judging by the scent of distress wafting through the air. She couldn’t blame him.

She was a little terrified too, honestly. They’d been so careful the last few months, tried to hold it together, and the new normal they’d created for themselves had just been spectacularly disrupted. They were in danger, had cut it pretty close, and it wouldn’t get any safer now. Wakanda was a potential sanctuary. They’d have to work hard to get there, harder than she preferred.

Sam wasn’t feeling very confident either, but he couldn’t think of a better plan. Time was of the essence; they didn’t have all the variables, had no idea if the jaws of danger were closing in on them, or on _Tony_.

He attempted to put his wings away. The mechanism shuddered, groaned unpleasantly as he did, but eventually, the wings retreated into their housing on his back.

“The sooner we get there, the better,” he agreed.

They turned to look at Steve, but he was lost in thought, in misery. His heart felt so heavy he thought it was going to fall to the ground. It hurt. It really did. It hurt like that day so many months ago, when he left in the first place, when he made a decision which haunted him for months to come, would probably always haunt him. His bond mark was screaming, aching: a mockery of the flame-wrought pain shooting up his arms.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he do anything right? Everything he tried to do, he seemed to fuck up. Every choice he made, every plan and every decision seemed to just bring more pain, more suffering to his loved ones.

Could he handle anything at all? He couldn’t even handle taking care of a damn _phone_ now. He’d lost it, lost this one small, simple item of immeasurable importance, and Tony would hate him for it, if he ever got to speak to him again. God, he hoped he’d be able to speak to him again. Tony would curse his name when he did, probably hate him all over again for all the pain and suffering he’d caused.

Steve had broken another promise, had squandered another chance. He wasn’t sure he’d get a third.

And if they were caught now? If Ross got his wish, snatched them up and branded them as criminals, dispensed justice? How could Steve look Tony in the eyes, from the opposite side of a prison cell, knowing that he had led them all to this?

For the first time in a long while, Steve considered succumbing, letting the world swallow him up like the icy water of the Atlantic had so many years ago.

He couldn’t give up though. He had to do everything in his power to get back to Tony, at least through a phone, to explain. If he couldn’t, if he failed _again_ , what did he have left to live for?

 _‘You’re a fucking idiot, Rogers,’_ he told himself. _‘When will you ever learn?’_

“Steve?”

Natasha’s voice cut through his thoughts, through the haze of despair. He couldn’t despair, couldn’t give up—not yet. He had to try, had to try and fix this all one last time.

Steve took a deep breath, got to his feet. ‘ _I’ll get back to you,’_ he promised the Tony in his mind’s eye. _‘I won’t abandon you again. You can count on me this time. Just hold on.’_

He pulled out the compass he kept on his belt, checked for a heading. They needed to head southward. The others waited silently, and if he didn’t know any better, with bated breath. The journey ahead would be difficult, possibly the most difficult journey they’d ever faced, but it had to be taken. They had to make it to Wakanda.

When Steve found the direction they needed, he rolled his shoulders, took a preparatory breath. He wouldn’t fail them, all of them, this time. He couldn’t.

The Alpha nodded to his teammates. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Leave a comment yelling at me!! Let's talk about all of this!


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